Incurable
by calltheangels
Summary: Murphy is kind of a jerk. But only kind of. Can be read as a companion to 'In Fine Spirits' or on it's own.


**Disclaimer- Not mine. Derkader.**

**AN- I'm having some serious writer's block on IFS... and this came out. lol. Don't forget to review! Enjoy!**

Connor could fall in love with any girl- no matter how unpleasant, catty, or stuck up they might be, simply because they happen to be the weaker sex- Maybe he watched one too many movies as a kid; Hollywood has a tendency to play the damsel in distress card and that would certainly explain why he attached himself to the wrong girls. By wrong, I mean the quote-unquote 'broken' ones, the ones who have 'bad thing a' happen to them, and then by the end of it, Connor winds up being their 'bad thing b.'

In short: My brother is a real sucker for a pretty face.

Me? Not so much. I had long since learned attaching feelings to a girl was like pulling the pin on the grenade and holding onto it- just a bad, retarded, dumb idea.

In short: My brother is an incurable, romantic dumbass. I am not.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a woman hater. God, no. I think females are beautiful creatures and I would never, ever hit one.

Wait, I take that back. I decked one today at work. But in my defense, she was the one to start it- she kicked Connor in the balls after jumping up onto her metaphorical soapbox about feminism (which, how in the fuck that happened, I have no idea, it was completely unmerited)- and she was massive enough to be mistaken for a guy. A punch in the face isn't equivalent to a kick in the balls in my opinion, but considering she didn't have the same anatomy, it was the best I could do.

Anyway, aside from that _one_ incident, I would never hit a woman. I mean, I love them. They're great to have around, they have radically different viewpoints, and they sure as hell keep you on your toes. I could befriend a woman, flit with and hook up with one- but date one? Nope. I draw the line there. Too many complicated emotions and shit. It's easier to just hang out with them and occasionally sleep with one. I don't see what is so damn wrong about having sex with someone you're not dating- sex is sex, and if both people want it, then why the hell not? You live once. Might as well enjoy it.

Connor, on the other hand, is _very_ against sleeping around with random girls. Not that he would ever come right out and say it- it was like breaking a man law to admit it out loud. But I can see it every time I bring a girl over or come home from a chick's place- the disapproval and disgust laces every word he speaks. But he never says anything and eventually he cools off and acts normal again. It irritated me slightly. Well, a lot actually. A few months ago, I got really pissed at him and told him to quote 'stop acting like a pussy and go get some.' He didn't find that comment amusing in the slightest, if the shiner he gave me was any indication.

But the dumbshit took my advice a couple nights later and went home with a blonde bombshell. He walked in the door of our rundown apartment the next morning looking absolutely haunted. When I asked if it went well, all he did was nod and give a muttered reply of "Yeah" before collapsing into bed. He carried around the same, shameful look in his eyes for weeks after.

Which is why we're at McGinty's tonight- Partially celebrating Saint Patty's day, and partially celebrating the fact Connor is acting normal again. Rocco is supposed to show up sometime, whenever he's done running shit for the mafia. I think he's stupid for being involved with them, but Roc seems somewhat content in life, so I guess it's whatever.

Connor has the whole group in fits, telling jokes and entertaining everyone. I take a shot of whisky and step away from the bar where everyone has gathered- the closer to the alcohol, the better. But there's a girl sitting alone a table, in the very corner, nursing a drink. It's an open invitation to guys like me.

I sit down in front of her and she gives me an ice cold glare. "Can I help you?" she asks, apparently in no mood for company. Too bad. I'm on a mission now.

"Actually, yes you can. Lemme buy you a drink."

She holds up her glass, shaking it a little. "Already got one, thanks."

I look at her- actually look this time, rather than a quick one over. She has dark bags under her eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and holy shit, she's skinny. She's also wearing scrubs. I feel like an asshole. She isn't trying to pick up a guy, she's just trying to decompress from work.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. Uh-" I'm drowning in my own stupidity.

"Yeah, yeah I get it. You thought I was trying to bait a guy-"

"Bait a guy? What the fuck does that mean?"

She laughs a little. "It's when a girl goes to a bar alone to pickup a guy. Guys have a similar method. I'm sure you would know all about that." She takes a drink. I am flustered. The girl has me pinned after what? A minute?

Time to diffuse the situation.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" I ask bluntly. She nodds her head. "Yep. Don't feel too bad though. Every guy is a man whore. You're all the same, bucko. " She hisses the last words, folding her arms across her chest.

Apparently today is national man-hating day. Or maybe I'm just giving out the wrong impression. Either way, I feel the need to correct her. "Not every guy is a scumbag. There are some decent ones out there."

She 'tuts' at me. "Whatever. Guys will fuck whatever moves. And hey, some chicks are like that. Unfortunately for you and the other guys here, I'm not."

"Wow. Way to generalize."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Could say the same to you."

"Alright, alright. You proved your point. But humor me here, okay." I wave at the bar. "If you went home with any of the guys here, tell me, who would you be the most likely to go with." I cringe at way the sentence sounds, the words a jumbled mess. Eh, I've never been super suave, so I'm kind of used to sounding like a jackass when I talk.

She raises both eyebrows, surprised. "Uh. What?"

"You heard me. Pick one, I'll tell you if they're anything like me. You know. Scumbagish." My head feels a little fuzzy. Must be the whiskey finally kicking in.

She still looks a little surprised, but peers around the bar. She points to the bar. "Him." I look at who she's pointing at. What a surprise. It's Connor. Figures.

"Actually, he is not a scumbag."

She rolls her eyes at me. "If you say so."

This girl will just not quit with the bitchiness. "He's a good guy!" She shakes her head at me, like I'm missing the point. Maybe I am. Still, I have my own point to prove. "Go talk to him!"

"The fuck did Murphy go?" says one of the guys. Connor turns his head and upon spotting me, he walks away from the bar. The girl sighs across from me muttering something along the lines of "Oh, for fuck's sakes," as Connor approaches.

"Who's this?" he asks energetically. He looks alive, which is a welcome sight after the weeks of moping and beating himself up.

"This is…." I suddenly realize I don't know her name. Connor smacks me in the head. "You're an idiot." He scolds me and then turns to the girl."Sorry about my brother. He's a retard."

Her lips curve upward into a smirk. "I noticed."

Connor's eyes light up as he looks at her. Oh God. Puppy dog eyes. No, not this shit again. It was almost exactly how it started with the blonde chick. "Well, I'm Connor and this is Murphy. Care to tell me yours?"

"Not really." She says bluntly. Connor looks taken aback. "Look, I'm don't want to be a bitch, but I would prefer it if you two left me alone. I had a rough day at work and would just like to relax."

Connor composes himself. "Look, I don't want to be a prick, but I don't think it's right for a girl to be alone at a bar."

"Specially on Saint Patty's." I interject.

"Why don't you come sit down with us. Let me buy you a drink. C'mon now." Connor looks so ridiculously hopeful. Like a kid hopped up on sugar.

The girl points to her glass. "I've got one, thanks."

I reach across the table and grab it, downing the contents in one gulp. "Whiskey and coke." I say. Delicious.

She looks royally pissed. "Looks like you don't have a drink anymore." I say triumphantly. Connor shakes his head. "Excuse us." He says and drags me back to the bar by the collar of my shirt.

"Fuck ass! Hey, give me a jack and coke? Thanks." He grabs the glass off the wooden counter as soon as Doc pours it. He pokes my chest with a finger. "Stay. Drink." He commands, walking back to the girl. I turn back to the bar and pick up a beer. I'm buzzed. A little.

In short: I'm an incurable ass. My brother is not.


End file.
